


Contact Sport

by rebelontherocks



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, First Meetings, M/M, javi is a hockey player yuzu is still a figure skater, you know what figure skating is missing? body checking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelontherocks/pseuds/rebelontherocks
Summary: Yuzuru makes assumptions, and an ass of himself in the process. He's lucky Javi was smitten before they even met.





	1. Body Check

**Author's Note:**

> The Maple Leafs are not my hockey team, I know some of their players, but not enough to write fic about them, nor did I really want to, this was never supposed to be a hockey rpf crossover, as such all of Javi's teammates are OC's for the purpose of this fic.

Yuzuru doesn't want to do it. He really doesn't. There's few things he can think of that he wants to do less. 

"You have to do it," Brian says, exasperated.  

They've been over this before, and Yuzuru has been putting off a definite answer for as long as he can. But now Brian has him backed against a wall, and he can't skirt around the issue any longer. 

"No," he says, reclining on Brian's office chair, an old scuffed up thing that protests with every move, and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He doesn't want to come across as childish and petulant, but he sees no other way out of it. 

"Yuzu, be reasonable, they put in a request with the Japanese federation to have you on the video, they said yes. My hands are tied," Brian says and rubs his temples with a sigh. 

"No one asked me," he says, under his breath. It's the truth, and that, most of all, pisses him off.  

About two weeks ago the Maple Leafs, a hockey team whose existence Yuzuru is only aware of because he's been living in Toronto for the past seven years, completely bypassed him and Brian and placed a direct request with the Japanese Federation to have him on some video with their players, in the spirit of inter-sports cooperation and celebrating the achievements of local Toronto athletes. The Japanese Federation said yes. When Yuzuru contacted them wondering politely why the fuck, they replied that they were operating under the impression Yuzuru had already previously agreed to participate in the video. Even after being disabused of that notion they maintained that it would be impolite to back down after having already agreed. As if politeness wasn't already out the window the moment the team decided his opinion wasn't necessary and they should just talk to his federation instead. 

"I know, and believe me I gave their PR department a piece of my mind about that. But the damage is done, your federation said yes, the team is expecting you to show up tomorrow." Brian reaches across the table to grasp Yuzu's hand a give it a little reassuring shake. "How bad can it be, really? You show up, skate for a bit, teach them a few things, they teach you to score a goal...you pretend it was hard, and it's done. You can leave after a couple of hours, and it's good press for everyone." 

"I have good press, don't need more," Yuzuru says, fighting the almost irresistible impulse to scoff at the idea that any of this could possibly benefit him in any way. 

"Think about it this way," Brain starts, using his reasonable teacher voice. Yuzuru waits for the incoming life lesson. "It's a chance to introduce a bunch of kids to figure skating. Kids who grew up idolising hockey maybe realising there's something else they could be good at, another sport worth getting excited about. Isn't that a good thing?" 

Yuzuru hates it when Brian is reasonable. 

 "Yes," he says, but the admission costs him. 

"Besides, that team hasn't won the Stanley Cup in fifty years, and you're a two-time Olympic Gold Medallist and world champion. If one of them makes any rude comment to you off-camera, just remind them of that little fact," Brian says with an encouraging smile. 

Yuzuru nods. There is that. He doesn't know what a Stanley Cup is but losing anything for fifty years is objectively horrible no matter what. Maybe these hockey players won't be as obnoxious as the ones Yuzuru had the displeasure of meeting in Sochi and PyeongChang. Defeat tends to humble even the haughtiest. He should know. 

\--- 

Yuzuru shows up at the Air Canada Centre early the next day and is promptly escorted inside by a flurry of personnel from the PR department who apologise profusely for going over him and contacting the Japanese federation directly, they keep talking about 'crossed wires' and 'miscommunication'. Yuzuru smiles their apologies away and keeps walking, he doubts it's some poor intern's fault, and the damage is done regardless. He's here, and just wants to get things over with as soon as possible. 

They ask him if he needs to get changed, Yuzuru shakes his head and smiles at the girl looking up at him expectantly. He's already wearing his usual training gear for the express purpose of not having to go inside any locker rooms. He has no idea if he would have his own or would be expected to share with the players, but he'd rather not take any chances. He'll shower and change at home. 

They're filming in the rink, and when Yuzuru gets there there's already a myriad of camera equipment everywhere and a camera crew setting things up. He relaxes a fraction when he sees that there are only five players on the ice, they're all wearing the same bulky blue and white uniform, but he would recognise them anyway by the relaxed manner they're talking among themselves, at ease like they own the place. Which, Yuzuru muses grudgingly, they do. He's not used to stepping on ice he can't make his own. This whole thing is out of his comfort zone. 

Yuzuru puts on his skates and steels himself for what promises to be a couple hours of fake smiling and half-hearted conversations, where he and five guys he's never met before try to act like they have anything in common. 

"Ok guys, this is Yuzuru Hanyu, I'm sure some of you have already heard of him, he won the gold at Sochi and PyeongChang in men's singles," says the same short peppy girl who asked him if he needed to get changed.  

Some of the guys congratulate him, two of them start clapping awkwardly, Yuzuru bows and says, "thank you for having me," and gets it over with nice and easy. 

Or not that easy, because the players start introducing themselves one by one. They list off their names, and what Yuzuru assumes are their roles on the team, as if Yuzu has any idea what a 'centre' is, and shake Yuzuru's hand. One of them, who introduced himself as 'Axe', bumps his shoulder against Yuzuru's and calls him 'bro'. Yuzuru can't even begin to figure out what to do with that. 

Yuzuru gives them all an empty smile and tries not to look too judgemental. They're all much broader and taller than him, Axe and a redhead who told Yuzuru to call him 'Rotts' look like they've had their noses broken multiple times. They look though, but not intimidating, at least not right now. The one who said his name was Javier, but to call him Javi, is smiling encouragingly at Yuzuru, like he can tell Yuzuru is apprehensive. He's the shortest of them all, but still taller than Yuzuru, and by far the most attractive. Yuzuru dislikes him and his friendly smile immensely.  

It's decided that Yuzuru should skate for the cameras for a bit before teaching the guys any figure skating basics. He does thirty seconds of Seimei and a triple axel. It goes without incident and everyone seems sufficiently impressed so he tampers down the urge to ask for a do-over just because his landing could have been smoother. 

Yuzuru starts them with crossovers since they're easy and he figures hockey players shouldn't have much trouble with them. He's only half-right, their posture isn't particularly good, and the tallest guy, Gustaf, keeps dropping his arms, but they manage. After a few minutes of this Yuzuru realises this is as good as it's going to get and moves towards a few more complicated step-sequences.  

"Can we do jumps?" Axe asks him, after faking his way through rockers and counters and failing spectacularly to do a proper twizzle, afterwards. 

"Uhm," Yuzu says, and looks around hopelessly for someone else to tell this idiot no.  

"I don't think your fat ass is up for that, Axer. You have enough trouble staying on your feet, as it is," Javi says, and hooks one arm around Axe's neck. His words are harsh but his tone is friendly. Axe just laughs and elbows him on the side. 

"Oh, and you're any better?" he says, trying to get out from under Javi's arm.  

Javi is, actually, but Yuzuru holds his tongue. He has the best form out of all of them and is the only one who managed to do a decent twizzle. Yuzuru still wouldn't let him attempt a jump. 

"Sorry about him," Javi says to Yuzuru, after releasing Axe to the tender mercies of his other teammates. "He likes to live life on the edge." 

Yuzuru nods. The truth is, he doubts Axe could even get enough momentum to injure himself, it would just be a waste of everyone's time, but especially Yuzuru's.  

"You know, I watched you in the Olympics, both times," Javi says, a sudden segue that surprises Yuzuru. "You were really great, I was rooting for you. Both times." 

Yuzuru doesn't know how to reply to that, he's flattered obviously, and embarrassed that he can't offer similar praise because he's never seen Javi play in his life. "Thank you," he says, giving him a genuine smile, his first of the day. Javi gives him an odd look, like he can tell the difference. "You go to the Olympics too?" 

Javi's sunny expression clouds over. "Ah, no, I'm from Spain, our national team has never managed to qualify." Right, of course, next Yuzuru will manage to offend his mother. He wishes this incredibly attractive man would just stop talking to him. 

No such luck. "Not that it would have made a difference this year, the NHL didn't allow any of us to compete in the Olympics."  

That sounds like something Yuzuru is woefully unqualified to comment on, so he just offers a sincere, "I'm sorry."  

Before Javi can add anything else, his teammate, Erik, who uttered the words 'Bricky for short' without a hint of irony, shouts from across the rink, "Whenever you're done flirting with our guest, we have more shit to film, Javi." 

Javi laughs and skates up to join the others, cursing them along the way. Yuzuru stays rooted to the spot, probably redder than the line bisecting the ice. All the goodwill Javi had earned himself, and his team by association, with that short, civil talk, evaporates. Yuzuru should have trusted his intuition, Javi is a patronising asshole, and his teammates are juvenile fools, just like all other hockey players he has had the misfortune of crossing paths with.  

He's going to teach them sit spins next and he's going to enjoy it when they fall on their asses just from trying to get into position wearing all those bulky pads 

\--- 

Yuzuru's plan backfires. Which is to say, he was right to think the players would look ridiculous, they fall constantly, and most of them aren't even flexible enough for a basic sit spin, but the producer loves it. Apparently, it's entertaining to watch them fail again and again, and then make jokes at each other's expense. They're hardly embarrassed, in fact, they're having fun. Which means they aren't taking any of this seriously, just as Yuzuru suspected they wouldn't. This is such a colossal waste of his time. He guesses people who haven't won anything in fifty years have to amuse themselves somehow. 

Things go from mildly annoying to unbearably uncomfortable when Javi starts stripping. 

"I can't get anything done wearing all this gear," he says, getting his jersey over his head. While Yuzuru watches in horror and his teammates hoot and cheer like they've never seen anyone take off their clothes before. 

Gustaf helps him get his chest and shoulder pads off and then Javi is naked above the waist in the middle of the rink, completely unself-conscious as the cameras keep rolling. There are faint red lines on his ribs where the pads dug into his skin, which could probably have been avoided had he worn a shirt under them. But why would he do that, when it's so much better to make Yuzuru scramble to look at anything except his muscular chest and the cut of his abs disappearing like a promise into the waistband of those hideous padded shorts. Yuzuru remembers seeing a picture of a hockey player with the entirety of his front teeth missing, why couldn't Javi have been one of those. 

Newly unencumbered, Javi attempts the basic sit spin again. He does better, his entry is smoother and he can hold the position longer without losing balance, but he still can't fully stretch out his leg, not to mention that for anything to be called a spin, there needs to be an appreciable amount of spinning.  

"Well, I thought that would go better," Javi says, straightening out with a forlorn expression, like he really expected the key to mastering figure skating would be less clothing.  

"Hip movement more important than upper body movement," Yuzu says, before he can stop himself. 

Javi blinks, a lazy, mischievous, smile curls over his lips. "I can always take the shorts off, if you want." 

That's met with a barrage of catcalls and whistles from Javi's teammates, and a cold, narrow-eyed glower from Yuzuru.  

"Keep your pants on," he says, cutting through the din like a blade across fresh ice.  

Javi's eyes go wide. If he expected to make Yuzuru fumble his words and get all flustered, he has another thing coming. 

"O-kay, we should probably move on to the hockey portion of the video," the producer says, clapping to get everyone's attention.  

Yuzuru spares Javi one last glare before turning his back on him and making his way to the camera crew to get his cues.  

\--- 

Erik offers Yuzuru a helmet and a stick, Yuzuru takes the stick but declines the helmet. 

Erik snorts. "What? You think you're too cool for helmets?" he says, swinging the helmet around by the strap. 

"Yes," Yuzuru says, casually, while testing his grip on the stick. "I fall, I deal with it." 

For some reason that makes Erik throw his head back and let out a full-body laugh, loud and obnoxious. It makes everyone stop and stare at them, Yuzuru wants to snap at him to laugh with his mouth shut. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" 

Oddly, he seems to mean it as a compliment. Yuzuru just shrugs. "I know." 

Erik shakes his head. "Alright, Javi come shoot your shot." That draws more laughter for wholly incomprehensible reasons, clearly hockey players are just easily amused. "I mean...come teach Yuzuru how to shoot." 

Javi mutters something under his breath at Erik that Yuzuru can't make out. He has put his jersey back on, but not the pads, and he's carrying an armful of pucks that he dumps at his feet a few metres away from a net the camera crew set up.  

He chances a tentative glance at Yuzuru before saying, "Right, just try to shoot into the net." 

That's helpful. Yuzuru rolls his eyes, grips the stick with both hands and tries to shuffle one puck away from the others, so he'll have more space to aim, it's more unwieldy than he expected but he manages. He swings the stick, focusing on sending the puck in a straight line into the net.  

It goes in, slow and choppy, skipping the last couple of centimetres past the posts, but in. 

"You're holding the stick like a broom," Javi says, and flashes Yuzuru a tiny, rueful smile.  

If he was a violent sort of person Yuzuru would punch Javi in his beautiful mouth. Instead he says, "You told me shoot." 

"I wanted to see what I had to work with." Javi is smiling openly now, amused at Yuzuru's pursed brows. "Right, move in front of me. Hold it like that, blade up." 

Yuzuru does, facing the goal and gripping the stick the exact same way he was before. Javi comes up behind him and places his big hands over Yuzuru's. Yuzuru tries to hold it together as best he can when he feels Javi's chest flush against his back, heat radiating through the thin layer of his jersey.  

"You need to be this close?" Yuzuru says, trying to sound aloof instead of flustered. He cuts his eyes sideways, expecting to see Javi's teammates gawking or in the process of catcalling some more, but they're actually off to the side, away from the cameras and passing a puck between the four of them, oblivious. That makes some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. 

"Hockey is a full-contact sport," Javi says simply, and slides Yuzuru's top hand up, until it's over the tape at the top of the stick, rotates it so that his fist is wrapped down. "You want to keep your fingers here, never lower. You can grip with the whole palm or just a few fingers. This is the stickhandling hand." He twists Yuzuru's hand back and forth to make the blade swivel, illustrating his point. 

The other hand Javi slides lower down the shaft, and wraps Yuzuru's fist around the stick from below, the meat of his thumb resting over the length of it. "This hand you use to put pressure on the stick and load up your shot." His warm breath grazes Yuzuru's ear when he speaks, Yuzuru is finding it hard to focus. The choice of words isn't helping. 

Still holding on to Yuzuru's hands over the stick, Javi splits another puck from the pile and draws their arms back, much farther than Yuzuru did on his first try. The blade hits the puck with a satisfying smack and sends it flying into the back of the net.  

"See? Much better." He lets go of Yuzuru and grins, warm and pleased. Like he wasn't the one doing most of the work. "Now you try it." 

Yuzuru's next shot isn't as strong as the one Javi helped him with, but still a vast improvement compared to his first attempt. The warm swell of pride at having done something right, and on his own this time, makes him drop his guard enough to forget he doesn't trust Javi and smile at him; a small pleased thing that is perhaps more honest than Yuzuru would like it to be.  

Javi colours bright red, a deep flush making its way from his neck up to his ears. He avoids Yuzuru's eyes and finds something worth looking at in the empty stands to his right.  

Yuzuru stares at the back of his neck, and then stares some more. And then comes to the conclusion that maybe Axe isn't the only idiot around. 

"Before...it was flirting? Real flirting?" He asks Javi's back, since his face is still otherwise occupied staring at rows of empty seats. 

Javi turns around slowly, as if he expects Yuzuru to hit him upside the head with a stick if he moves too fast. Which okay, Yuzuru didn't think he was that bad. "As opposed to the other, more popular, fake kind?" It clearly isn't enough to stop him being a smartass. 

"I thought maybe you are just making fun, being rude," he says, lowering his head and scraping an arch of ice shavings with the tip of his skate blade. He feels foolish, all of a sudden, like he missed his chance at something he didn't know was in reach.  

"Why would I do that?" Javi asks, disbelieving, as if he can't see why Yuzuru would think someone might. 

"Hockey players are not always nice. At Olympics, they say things that sound nice, but they don't mean them nicely," Yuzuru says, forcing the words out.  

He remembers being nineteen and naïve, some burly guy with a stick over his shoulder and a flag on his chest Yuzuru didn't recognise walking by him and telling him something in English that sounded sweet and tempting, he remembers Daisuke looking at his pleased face, shaking his head and saying, 'honey, no.' That's how he learnt some people could hurl lovely words like punches. 

Javi closes the distance between them with smooth purposeful strides and takes Yuzuru's hand in his, "I won't say some hockey players aren't like that. Hell, I've met my fair share, but I promise, " his hand tightens around Yuzuru's, "I promise, I'm not one of them. None of the guys here are." 

Yuzuru nods, rubbing his thumb over Javi's warm palm. Javi holding his hand like this is enough to dispel most of his doubts. It's too tender a gesture for anyone to think it could mean anything else.  

"Shit, this is so embarrassing...right," Javi starts with a sigh, "We have Olympics viewing parties, okay? The guys know I think you're hot. They've known since Sochi. I might have been especially enthusiastic during these past Olympics." Yuzuru chances one quick look at Javi's face, and sure enough the blush is back. "When management told us you were one the athletes we were going to be filming with they started teasing me nonstop. But it's all in good fun, it's how we are, as a team, as friends. They wouldn't do it if it upset me. And if it upsets you I can tell them to stop." 

Javi's face is so open and earnest, there's only one thing Yuzuru can say to that, "You think I'm hot?" 

He huffs out a laugh and pulls Yuzuru by the hand against his chest. "Yeah, I think you're hot." 

"I think you're hot too," Yuzuru says, the words come out slightly muffled against Javi's jersey. 

"Good to know I didn't take my shirt off in a freezing rink for nothing." 

Yuzuru's train of thought about how nice Javi smells, and how much he would like to see him out of that jersey again, is rudely interrupted by a collective slow clap. 

"Yeah, yeah, you're an inspiration to us all, Javi," comes Erik's snide voice. Now that Yuzuru isn't busy stamping the word 'jerk' over his mental image of his overlarge forehead he can pick up on the undercurrent of fondness, buried deep under the multiple layers of sarcasm. "Also, you two might want to thank us for telling the crew to stop filming about twenty minutes ago." 

"And, like, Yuzuru is gonna have to come back some other day, because, like, we didn't get to film everything we needed for the video," Axe adds, with the eloquence Yuzuru is starting to associate with him.  

Javi runs his thumb over Yuzuru's jaw, eyes shining with roguish delight, and says, "oh, would you look at that! It seems I'm going to have to take you out to apologise for making you waste all this time!" 

What an asshole. Yuzuru can't wait to kiss him. 

\--- 

Yuzuru is skating laps around the rink, negotiating with himself whether to take another glance at the clock mounted on the wall or not, when Shoma storms into the rink, sunglasses perched on top of his dishevelled hair, carrying a Tim Horton's cup, and saving Yuzuru the trouble of checking the time because Shoma starts practice one hour before his wraps up.  

"Why is there a hot guy waiting outside for Yuzu?" he asks, loudly and pointedly in English instead of Japanese, to make sure everyone hears him. "He said he was a hockey player." 

Brian comes to a screeching halt on the ice next to Yuzuru. "Yuzu, why is there a hockey player outside?" 

Yuzuru sends Shoma a look he hopes conveys all the most uncharitable thoughts he's ever had. Shoma just smirks, self-satisfied like a cat about to push a vase off a table, and says, "I've seen his face on posters. I think he's the captain of the Maple Leafs." 

An hour later the captain of the Maple Leafs takes Yuzuru on a very nice date, to a very fancy restaurant, after which he pulls Yuzuru into an alley where no one can see them and kisses him with sweet sugary lips that taste of the maple syrup ice cream they had for dessert.  

Later that week, Javi will wrap his arms around Yuzuru's waist from behind and ask him if he wants any more lessons in 'full-contact hockey.' Yuzuru will lean into Javi's heated touch and whisper against his neck that he's 'heard good things about body checking.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hilarious to me that this fic has by far the dirtiest title of everything I've written, and yet is the tamest. Feels like a missed opportunity.
> 
> Also, in this universe Shoma speaks better English than Yuzuru, I like to think he learnt it out of spite, due to prolonged exposure to Yuzuru's company, and for the opportunity to embarrass him at every tu


	2. Stick Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the Washington Capitals are stanley cup champions and I can finally post this without feeling like I'll jinx them. Also, yes, Javi's number is a shameless tribute to Nicklas Bäckström, whom I love as if he were a player from my own team.

Yuzuru hates hockey. It's the world's worst sport. It's messy, it's loud, inescapable if you live in Canada, and, worst of all, it's stealing his boyfriend. And Yuzuru will gladly say as much to anyone willing to listen. At present that honour falls to Shoma, who is enjoying Yuzuru's suffering all the way from Japan.

"You should have come here and done all the exhibition dates, that way at least you'd have a legitimate reason for not seeing him other than weird superstitions, or because his coach won't let anyone fuck before a game, or whatever," Shoma tells him, not for the first time, and with the usual bluntness of a fist meeting concrete.

Yuzuru raises the phone up to his face and makes sure Shoma can see his frown, up close and personal. He usually hates videocalls but it's important for him that Shoma is aware of the depths of Yuzuru's displeasure in all its manifestations. "I told you, he asked me to stay. Because they can win the damn cup this time, apparently. And he wanted me to be here to celebrate with him, if they do."

"Oh yeah, you're celebrating a lot, calling me every day to complain about how little you get to see him, just fun all around."

"Well, they haven't won yet!" Yuzuru says, exasperated beyond belief with the situation, with Shoma, with Javi, with the entire country of Canada and the sport of hockey, with himself most of all – maybe.

"How long until they win this English lord's mug?" Shoma asks.

"There's two more games left in this series, but if they win the next one they go to the finals, which can then either go to seven games, or end in four, depending." Yuzuru says, rubbing at his temple. There was a time in his life where nothing of what he just said would have made sense to him. He kind of misses it.

"That makes no sense," Shoma says, helpful as ever.

"Yeah, well," Yuzuru says with a sigh and a shrug.

"Why don't you just show up at his place, and I don't know...jump him or whatever?

"What if they lose the game and he blames me!" Yuzuru has his own superstitions and rituals, he's not one to judge in that department. The difference is, he's a singles skater, victory and defeat rest solely on his shoulders. Following superstition makes him feel more in control of the outcome. He really doesn't understand how superstition can help with a team of twenty other people. Obviously no single player can win or lose a game on their own. It makes no sense.

Even so, he doesn't want to get blamed in the event that his presence coincides with the Leafs losing a game. As irrational as that would be.

"You should show up at the next game, and if they win you go meet Javi and tell him you were at the arena to support him, and if they lose you just slink away and say nothing and try again next game," Shoma says.

"Ok, but I don't actually enjoy watching hockey, you understand that, right? I just want to fuck, " Yuzuru says, annoyed at having to stress the obvious.

"Yes, you idiot, I know," Shoma says in his best put-upon voice. "But if you go to the game and they win, you become a good luck charm, or whatever. And are you telling me he won't fuck you after your presence single-handedly helped his team win?"

"That's so stupid, it makes no sense" Yuzuru says, and then thinks about it some more. "Which means it will probably work."

"And then you can stop calling me, and I can finally sleep."

"I'll call you anyway to tell you how awful those costumes look. The waistcoat makes your legs look shorter, just so you know." It really does, Yuzuru isn't even lying about that one.

"You'll have to wear them too when you get here, just so you know," Shoma says, smiling sweetly through the camera.

"Yeah, but I already have my own costume ready, too, it's midnight blue with yellow and periwinkle draping. It's going to look great."

Shoma makes a disgusted face a Yuzuru. "Do you even hear yourself? That sounds disgusting. I have to go before your bad taste drives me to an early grave. The lack of sex has clearly addled your brain. Goodbye."

"Your legs still look stumpy!" Yuzuru hisses into the phone, but by then Shoma has already disconnected.

\---

Stumpy legs or not, Yuzuru can't get Shoma's advice out of his head. And the next day he tries to buy a ticket for the Leafs game on the following Monday, only to realise they're all sold out. Which means he has to make an embarrassing call to the Leafs' PR department and ask for a ticket. He doesn't even have to use his bullshit excuse about a newfound love for the sport after shooting the video with the team two months ago, because the guy who picks up is just falling all over himself to give Yuzuru as many tickets as he wants. They also refuse to let him pay, which is honestly a relief, because the available tickets for the following dates were all in the thousands of dollars and Yuzuru was not looking forward to paying even more than that for a last-minute ticket.

Javi calls him as usual the night before the game, to ask Yuzuru about his day and tell him how much he misses having him stay over, just apparently not enough to do anything about it. Yuzuru grinds his teeth against the urge to tell him just that and wishes him good luck. Javi promises him they'll have lunch together on Tuesday, no matter the game's outcome. Yuzuru doesn't tell him that if he wins Yuzuru won't let him leave his apartment long enough to have lunch anywhere. They'll have to order take out directly to bed or not eat at all.

He goes to sleep with that hopeful thought swirling around in his mind.

Getting to the arena the next day is a nightmare, there's people dressed in blue everywhere, pushing against him and making every step take an age. He makes his way to his seat in time, after asking three different people for directions and eventually being led there by an usher, by virtue of being seated in one of the premium suites. Which are way up top, away from the screaming, swarming masses of fans but, incidentally, the ice as well. His disappointment comes as a surprise.

He has a great bridseye view of the ice, but he can't make anyone's faces, just the numbers, he tracks Javi's 19 as he makes his way to join his teammates to listen to the Canadian anthem. A frankly baffling tradition considering these aren't technically international games. Yuzuru knows Javi and most of his European teammates find it just as odd from his comments the one time they watched a hockey game together at Javi's place. They don't look it as they stand solemnly on the ice, hands resting on their sticks. The jumbotron is right in front of Yuzuru's suite and he has a privileged view to their grave faces as the camera pans through. Yuzuru's heart skips a beat when it lands on Javi, his eyes closed and brows knitted in concentration. It's a deadly look. It looks good on him.

Against all odds Yuzuru finds himself enjoying the experience. It's nothing like the one game he watched at home with Javi. On the TV he could barely see the puck moving, but now every move unfolds in front of his eyes with crystal clarity. What looked, at best, like organized chaos before, now has an obvious rhythm and meticulous coordination that he could never guess at previously. Every time a pass connects it feels at once miraculous and inevitable. It's precise like chess, and at the same time exhilarating like an action movie car chase.

Yuzuru gets it suddenly. What makes the thousands of people in that building cheer and chant until the ground shakes. It's seeing individuals skating as one. It's hypnotising when the players on the ice are in synch, moving as a unit with dogged determination towards the goal, and jarring when they aren't, when the other team cuts through their formation, makes them scramble after the puck. It's a primal desire for order in the middle of chaos. That's why hockey looked unorganised to him at first, he wasn't noticing all the ways each team was trying to control the ice to suit their structure.

Yuzuru is on the edge of his seat, heart speeding up in time with the chants around him when Erik breaks away from the Pittsburgh players surrounding him. He scores while they're still chasing him and Yuzuru jumps up and screams, overtaken by some form of adrenaline that is pure joy, so unlike the cold steel that runs through his veins before he skates. There's nothing focused about the energy that makes him bounce from his seat and smile at the people sitting next to him.

And then he looks up at the jumbotron and his own face is staring back at him. It's like cold water being spilled over a bonfire. It reads 'Yuzuru Hanyu – Figure skater, 2x OGM' under his stunned face. He drops back down on his plush leather seat like dead weight and gives the camera a wan smile and a wave. And then the camera pans to the Leafs bench and it’s a million times worse when half a dozen pairs of incredulous eyes look up at the jumbotron where Yuzuru's face just was, Javi's among them.

Despite his best attempts Yuzuru can't disappear into his seat. The people in his suite who moments ago were cheering with him are now giving him accessing looks, probably wondering what he's doing there, most definitely why he looks like someone just shot his dog.

He takes out his phone and texts Javi, he won't be able to see it until the intermission but there's not much else he can do at the moment. 'Sorry. You want me to leave?'

The first period ends shortly after, with the Leafs up by one thanks to Erik's goal. Yuzuru is probably the only person in the arena that doesn't feel optimistic. He feels stupid and selfish, he wonders if this will upset Javi. Or his teammates, most of whom know they're together. It must feel like a betrayal, him showing up all of a sudden, raising uncomfortable questions when they need them the least. That's what listening to Shoma's stupid advice gets him. He should have seen this coming metres away.

He's almost too busy feeling sorry for himself to feel his phone vibrate. He unlocks the screen with shaky fingers but breathes a sigh of relief when he reads Javi's words, 'No, please stay.'

It still isn't enough to dissipate the cold anxiety coursing through him and making him bounce his legs against the floor with nervous energy, but he leans back against his seat and feels a lot less like screaming.

The second period starts with deafening roars from the audience and with the Leafs hemming Pittsburgh in their own zone mercilessly, it pays off, and not two minutes in Javi scores a beautiful goal off of an impossible pass from Axe. The volume in the arena grows to new heights, Yuzuru can feel the pounding of thousands of feet in his bones, and then Javi coming out of a crushing bear hug with Axe and Gustaf spins around points his stick at the stands in Yuzuru's direction, and mouths "for you," and Yuzuru's heart stops in his chest. The crowd roars again, thinking Javi means them, all of them, but Yuzuru can hear only static because he knows that goal was for him.

It's a blur after that, Yuzuru is only conscious of his heart beating beneath his ribs like a caged bird, desperate for freedom. He has no idea why Javi's gesture affected him so much, but the tenderness of that private moment with thousands of eyes watching sets his blood to run.

Pittsburgh manages to score one goal in the dying seconds of the period and it's a miracle the Leafs' fans don't boo the roof down. The Leafs come back with a vengeance in the third and a player named Dion that Yuzuru hasn't spoken much with scores an opportunistic goal on a juicy rebound. Pittsburgh takes out their goalie for an extra attacker and Javi scores on the empty net. He points his stick towards Yuzuru again but doesn't say anything this time. Yuzuru feels his fierce gaze burning him through the jumbotron like a physical thing.

The crowd roars and cheers with mindless delight, the team all hug each other down on the ice, the game is over and Yuzuru is shaking on his seat.

To his confusion some trophy is brought on the ice. Yuzuru is 100% sure it's not the Stanley Cup, he has seen pictures, and that long skinny thing is not it. It's announced as the Prince of Wales trophy awarded to the eastern conference champions, which Yuzuru guesses the Leafs are. Javi picks it up over his head, to a chorus of shocked gasps, which only further confuses Yuzuru who doesn't understand why hockey's biggest prize is named after some lord, and the second-best thing after a prince, but whatever – it's a day for embracing unusual experiences.

Which is probably why when the usher who showed him his seat approaches him to tell him he's wanted somewhere else Yuzuru isn't even mildly surprised and just follows after him.

He's led to an empty room with multiple folding chairs and two huge whiteboards and a screen mounted on the wall, he takes a seat on one of the chairs and waits.

Not long after he hears the thundering sound of dozens of skate-guards hitting the floor and booming voices singing and laughing as they draw nearer.

The footsteps move away from the room Yuzuru is in, but one unmistakable voice says something he can't make out through the closed door and then Javi is opening it and poking his head through until his eyes fall on Yuzuru. His blinding smile sets Yuzuru's heart fluttering all over again. "There you are."

"Congratulations," Yuzuru says, weirdly shy. "Sorry, should say I was coming."

Javi makes his way towards him, takes Yuzuru's hand in his, and smiles, the sort of sweet, private smile that starts in his eyes. "I'm glad you didn't. It was a great surprise."

Oh, in that case. "I had ulterior motive," Yuzuru says, meeting Javi's eyes. That weird shyness giving way to the shamelessness that made him decide to show up in the first place.

Javi snorts, runs his thumb over Yuzuru's knuckles and says, "Yeah, I bet I can guess what."

Before Yuzuru can ask Javi when they are leaving, Erik and Axe barrel through the half-open door, with what looks like half the team peering curiously over their shoulders.

"Yuzu, my man!" Erik shouts. "Did you see my sweet breakaway goal?"

"It was, like, so sick," Axe adds, for emphasis.

Yuzuru shrugs. "It was okay."

Erik hisses and places one hand over his heart. "Cold as ever."

Yuzuru just smirks at him.

"You two crazy kids behave." Erik says, making his teammates laugh, and closes the door behind him.

"Did you like my goals?" Javi asks crowding into Yuzuru's space, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Or were they just okay, too?"

Yuzuru wraps his hands around Javi's arms, then his shoulders, finally he tangles them in his sweaty hair and crashes their lips together artlessly. He swaps open-mouthed breaths with Javi when they break apart, and then says, "Take me home. Show you how much."

\---

On the drive to his apartment Javi reassures Yuzuru, that oddly enough, no one who saw him at the game came to the arresting conclusion he was fucking one of the players – in fact the Leafs official twitter account even posted a few screencaps of his video with the team, next to his face on the jumbotron with the triumphant caption 'On that day a new fan was born!'

"It would be right conclusion," Yuzu says, under his breath, slightly ashamed that his panic and guilt had been such a huge overreaction.

Javi snorts, "You want to set the record straight? Or, uh, gay as it were? Be my guest, but you deal with the press while I take a vacation in Bali, or something."

Yuzuru digs his nails into Javi's thigh and tells him to shut up and just keep driving. Javi does with a choked off "yessir."

They stumble into Javi's apartment losing clothes as they go. Shoes kicked off at the door, jeans over the back of the sofa, shirts on the hallway, and underwear like a breadcrumb trail leading to the bed where Javi pushes Yuzuru down and climbs on top of him.

They rub against each other like teenagers, mindless with lust and laughter, peppering kisses over every stretch of skin they can reach. Yuzuru grows impatient before Javi does. He feels like he's been on edge forever, desperate for something, anything, but now that he's here he wants more than this. He whines into Javi's neck and scores his nails down his back, wraps one leg around Javi's waist and arches up against him, rubbing his hard cock on the cut of his abs.

Javi's hair is still damp from his shower and it leaves a cold trail on Yuzuru's cheek when Javi leans down to lick into his open, panting mouth. "What do you want?" he asks when they break for air, voice husky with need.

"Fuck me." Yuzuru isn't above begging, so he does. "Please."

Javi doesn't make him wait. He fumbles with the bedside table drawer and fishes out the bottle of lube. Yuzuru gets on his hands and knees while he uncaps it, impatient to get things going. Javi upends what feels like half the bottle on the small of Yuzuru's back, the cold against his feverish skin makes him hiss. Javi makes soothing noises and spreads the lube down Yuzuru's crack.

He presses one thumb against Yuzuru's fluttering hole and pushes just the tiniest bit, teasing, making Yuzuru whine. "You're really gagging for it."

Instead of answering Yuzuru gets down on his elbows, pushing his hips back, like an offering, another trophy for Javi to win.

Javi swears behind him, and Yuzuru hears the slick sounds of lube again. And then there are fingers pushing against him, insistent and demanding, opening him perfunctorily because this isn't the main event, and Javi is now as keyed up as Yuzuru feels, too hungry to draw things out.

When Javi finally fucks inside the sound Yuzuru lets out is more like a sob than a moan. And then Javi uses all of his hockey strength to pound him into incoherence. The filthy sounds of skin against skin fill the room and Yuzuru loses himself in the rhythm of Javi's spearing thrusts. He fucks like he plays, Yuzuru realises, mindless with pleasure, his tongue sticking to the back of his throat from how good he's getting it. Javi drives into him with the same relentless pursuit he chases the puck, he draws moans and whimpers from Yuzuru like the scrape of a stick on the ice.

Yuzuru hisses on a particular vicious stroke, he's close so, so close. His ears ring with the sound of the thousands of ecstatic voices back at the arena, they can't see this though, their captain plays only for Yuzuru's pleasure now. Snapping his hips against Yuzuru's ass, making him feel all of him inside, carving space, staking his claim, grunting fricatives against Yuzuru's ear, and, "so tight", "hot", "mine."

"Please," Yuzuru says brokenly, struggling to get the words out. He's so close, but he's wound too tight to get there on his own.

Javi gets what he means anyway. He wraps his fist around Yuzuru's cock, and he comes in seconds, just with the twist of Javi's dextrous fingers, playmaking fingers.

He slumps on his front, boneless from the strength of his orgasm, but Javi keeps fucking him, holding on to his hips with bruising strength, using Yuzuru's body to chase his own pleasure. It should be too much, but some part of Yuzuru still isn't satisfied because he welcomes the too-sensitive scrape of Javi's cock against his prostate, the roughness of his hands on him. He's half-hard again by the time Javi comes inside him with a shout.

Yuzuru whimpers when Javi pulls out, but he doesn't have long to mourn his absence before Javi his shoving two fingers back inside him, and getting his mouth where he's open and wet, leaking his cum. It's the filthiest thing that has ever happened to him, and Yuzuru is coming again before he even has the time to wrap his mind around it. It's a dry orgasm that leaves him winded and hollow, wrung out beyond the point of coherence.

He doesn't pass out, but it's a close thing. He loses time and is only mildly aware of Javi carrying him to the bathroom, asking him questions he answers on auto-pilot. He comes out of the haze in the bathtub, his back against Javi's chest, warm water lapping at his shoulders.

"Welcome to the land of the living," Javi says, running a hand through Yuzuru's wet hair. His breath is minty fresh when he kisses Yuzuru's cheek.

"I could have died," Yuzuru says, going for dramatic, thumping his head against Javi's chin.

Javi chuckles. "From good sex? Nah, it only feels that way."

"Next time, don't make me wait so long," he adds, petulantly. He's warm and sated, and feels like being indulged, just a little.

Javi tickles Yuzuru's ribs in retaliation.

"You think you still win, next round? Now we are having sex?" Yuzuru asks, just to tease him.

Javi twists around to face Yuzuru and give him a puzzled look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

And that's how Yuzuru finds out that the reason they weren't fucking wasn't due to some weird hockey superstition, coaches orders, or for the semi-reasonable purpose of saving energy. No, the real reason is much dumber.

"I was just...I don't know? I guess it was just another way for me to push myself? Like I could only touch you when I won the cup? If I wanted to have sex with you, I had to win it all, you know? Extra incentive."

Yuzuru is three seconds away from drowning him in bathwater. "Winning not incentive enough?"

"Of course, but the playoffs are long, we need all the motivation we can get," Javi says, nodding like any of his words make any sense.

Yuzuru has more to say, but it all rushes out of him when he notices the water drops gathered on Javi's lashes, framing his big earnest eyes. There's nothing to do but kiss him then, so Yuzuru does, sighing against his warm mouth.

He can't help adding one extra needling remark, though. "What is going to be new motivation now?"

"Oh, seeing you in the stands watching me play was better motivation than blue balls ever could be," Javi says, with a delighted smile. "So, I guess you're just gonna have to go to all our games in the final."

Yuzuru hides a private smile against Javi's chest, that's not going to be much of a hardship.

"Of course, that means the away games too. You're going to have to fly to Vegas for those."

Javi silences Yuzuru's outraged protests with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tempted to write another chapter from Javi's perspective about winning the stanley cup, which is partly why this chapter is set in the conference finals. Or maybe I should just write Ovi/Nicky fic and get this hockey mood over with. Decisions.


End file.
